Elf: Professor Layton Version
by ItalianPrincess92
Summary: When Clive discovers that he's really a human living in an elf's world in the North Pole, he goes on a quest to find his biological father in London. Based on the heartwarming comedy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, this is a Professor Layton spin on one of my favorite movies ever, "Elf." I hope you all have seen this film starring Will Ferrell and James Caan, because it is amazing. **

**Buddy is Clive**

**Walter Hobbs is Professor Layton**

**Michael Hobbs is Luke (Clive's half brother)**

**Emily Hobbs is Emmy (Clive's stepmom)**

**Jovie is Flora**

**Susan Wells is Claire Foley (Clive's birth mom)**

**The Professor will be slightly OOC, but only because that is his character. **

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters or Elf characters**

_December 24, 1982_

A fine but steady snowfall drifted down from the heavens, blanketing the grounds of St. George's Orphanage.

The soft, ivory powder dusted tree branches and rooftops of surrounding buildings, creating a picturesque winter wonderland scene.

Despite the bitter cold however, inside the orphanage, the air was warm and bursting with Christmas spirit.

Festive carols were playing from a small phonograph and bells were hung from doorknobs, jingling each time someone went to a different room.

In the main hallway, a tall bright green Christmas tree stood, adorned with twinkling white lights and colorful glass balls.

The spicy, earthy scent of pine needles blended with the aroma of fresh baked cookies as some nuns prepared treats for the older children who were still up, waiting anxiously for Santa Claus.

Meanwhile, in the other wing, one of the older nuns was busy putting the babies to bed.

Sister Lydia cradled the orphanage's tiniest resident in her arms for a moment before placing him in his crib.

The boy was eleven months; the youngest child at St. George's.

With round pink cheeks and a sweet laugh, he brought a smile to every face at the orphanage.

He babbled happily and kicked his legs, his eyes sparkling.

Tucking the blanket around him, Sister Lydia gave him his bottle filled with warm milk.

She smiled down at the infant and sighed.

"Sweet dreams, my angel," she said softly. "Maybe by next Christmas you'll have a home."

Then, making sure the windows were shut tight, Sister Lydia quietly left the nursery and closed the door.

Minutes passed, and the little boy was still wide awake, leisurely drinking his milk.

Three other babies that shared the room were sleeping, and soon, his eyelids began to get heavy.

The bottle slipped out of his hands and just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a loud thud that jolted him out of drowsiness.

He looked over to where the noise had come from, and saw someone in a red suit that caught his attention.

Cooing, he stood up in his crib to get a better look. It was a man with a round belly and white beard and there was a large crimson sack at his feet.

His focus turned to the bag, where, amongst all of the colorful toys, a big fluffy teddy bear was nestled inside.

Excited, he grabbed onto the railing and jiggled it, when it became unhinged and dropped down with a loud metallic clang.

The baby giggled.

Now there was nothing that could stand in his way from getting that bear!

Once on the ground, he crawled as fast as he could towards the sack.

This was going to be fun!

**A/N: I hope you all liked it! Please R&R!**

**Note: I know that in the UK, Santa is more traditionally known as Father Christmas, but for personal convenience, I'm going to use Santa Claus.**

**P.S. If you've seen the movie, "Elf", you know that Buddy gets his name from the tag on his diaper. I want to do the same, so if you have any ideas of "company" names that use the name "Clive", please share them. I have a couple of ideas, but any suggestions would be appreciated. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Second chapter! Yay!**

**Thanks to lilyb12, MikuLover, The Mocking J and Wigzard for their reviews!  
**

**lilyb12-Thank you! I know what you mean! My mom and I have watched Elf, literally, like, 12 times in the past week! haha  
**

**MikuLover-Thank you! :D  
**

**The Mocking J-I am going to try my hardest not to make the Professor _too _OOC. Although, he is on the naughty list. ;)  
**

**Wigzard- Yep! I love Elf!  
**

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters**

Back at the North Pole, the festivities were in full swing as the elves celebrated yet another joyful Christmas season.

They danced jigs, munched on candy, and took many shots of syrup-spiked milk.

Santa had finally returned from his annual global journey, and was about to give his report on the trip.

"Alright, everyone," he started, his nose still red from the cold, "we've had another successful year, and, after all that hard work, it's time to start preparations for next Christmas!"

The elves cheered, and immediately took their seats at the long, wooden workbenches.

As everyone knew, there were only three jobs available to an elf. The first was making shoes at night while the old cobbler slept. Second was baking cookies in an oak tree. (Although, as you can imagine, was very dangerous during the dry season).

And lastly, of course, was building toys in Santa's workshop.

Needless to say, that was the profession that every elf aspired to, and because of their natural enthusiasm, nimble fingers, and active minds, they were the perfect candidates for the job.

Sure, Santa had employed other creatures throughout the years, but none of them had worked out. Most notably were the gnomes and trolls. The gnomes drank too much, and trolls weren't toilet-trained, leaving many messes for the elves to clean up.

Every elf was busy at work now: assembling, carving, stuffing, stitching, and hammering, when one of them noticed movement from Santa's sack.

"Hey, look!"

Simultaneously, activity at every table ceased; all heads turning.

The bag shifted again, and as Santa went closer to investigate, out crawled the baby.

Gasps and excited murmurs followed as he stood up and surveyed the group with his big, brown eyes.

JoJo, an elf who always wore blue, crossed the room and crouched next to the little boy.

"'Clove and Clive Apparel'," she said slowly, reading the tag on the back of his pajamas.

"His name is Clive," an elf named Ling Ling piped up. "He must have..."

"Snuck into your sack at the orphanage," his friend Chou Chou finished.

"Santa, what are we going to do?" JoJo asked.

Attention then shifted from the baby to Santa, while everyone waited for the verdict.

Luckily for Clive, when it came to babies, Santa was a bit of a pushover. So, after a minute, the decision was that Clive would stay and be raised by a senior elf who was known to everyone as 'Papa'.

At first, bringing up a human in the North Pole proved a challenge. Clive grew twice as fast as all the other children, which meant that at the ripe old age of two, he was already too big to sit on Papa's lap.

Despite this, however, Clive was just like all the other elves. Well... mostly.

In school, Clive excelled, especially in the class, "Elvish Code and Conduct" with his teacher, Mr. Peppermint.

"Before we begin learning how to build the latest in toy technology, let's recite the Code of the Elves, shall we?" he asked, pointing at the blackboard with a yardstick. "Number one."

"Treat every day like Christmas."

"Number two?"

"There's room for everyone on the nice list."

"And number three?"

"The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear."

Clive looked over and shared a smile with his friend, MiMi. That was their most favorite rule.

-o-

Finally, when Clive was old enough, Papa made him his own personal apprentice.

"I've never been in here before," Clive said, following Papa into a small, dark room.

"Well, I thought it was time you start your tinker training," Papa told him. He flicked on the light, and when Clive saw what was in the middle of the room, his jaw dropped.

"Santa's sleigh..."

It was a rich cherry red color, with matching leather seats on the inside. The skids were recently polished and gleaming and there was gold trim along the edges.

"You're going to help me make it fly," Papa said.

"Me? I thought the magical reindeer made the sleigh fly," Clive said.

"And where do the reindeer get their magic from?" Papa quizzed before climbing into the sleigh.

"Christmas spirit. Everybody knows that."

"Well, you may not know this, but a lot of folks down South don't believe in Santa Claus."

Clive's eyes popped in shock. "_What? _Who do they think puts the toys under the tree?"

Papa cleared his throat. "Actually, there's a rumor going around that the, uh, the parents do it."

"That-that's ridiculous," Clive said, obviously stunned. "I mean, parents couldn't do all that in one night! And what about the cookies? I suppose the parents eat those, too?"

Papa nodded. "I know. And unfortunately, every year, fewer people believe in Santa. I mean, we have a real energy crisis here. Just look at how low the Claus-O-meter is."

He pointed to a dial on the front of the sleigh where the arrow had fallen to zero.

"That's shocking," Clive agreed.

"So that's why I came up with this little beauty in the '60's," Papa said. He pressed a few buttons and flipped a switch, and a loud humming noise started up.

Clive bent down and saw a long, metal cylinder on the underside of the sleigh.

"What is it?"

"It's the Kringle 5000; a five-hundred reindeer power jet engine. Without it, the sleigh couldn't get more than a few feet from the ground."

Papa then left the sleigh and went next to Clive.

Suddenly, the engine coughed and sputtered and shot out a puff of white smoke along with bright yellow sparks.

"Hm, seems like there's a wire short somewhere," Papa observed. "You want to give me a hand with that?"

Clive looked up at Papa. "You want _me _to help?"

-o-

As much as everyone in the community loved and accepted him, Clive couldn't help but always feel a bit different from his friends.

Take, for instance, toy-making. It came so easily to everyone else, but for him, it took much more effort.

There were only three more weeks until Christmas now, and as production went into hyper-drive, he struggled to keep up with the demand.

Currently, he was trying to build toy robots, and while the others effortlessly produced flawless finished product, he had trouble remembering the proper assembly steps.

He heard someone come up behind him, and without looking, he knew exactly who it was.

"Hi, Ping Ping," he said quietly. "I don't think I'm going to make the quota today."

"It's alright, Clive. How many robots did you finish?"

Embarrassed, Clive didn't reply.

Ping Ping was record-keeper for the workshop, and it was his job to make sure that manufacturing was kept on schedule.

"Clive... how many?" he asked again.

"I made... 85," he answered finally.

All the elves glanced up from what they were doing when they heard the number, but then quickly got back to work.

Frustration bubbled up inside of him. It seemed like he could never do anything right.

"Why don't you just say it? I'm the worst toy-maker ever," he said, putting down his hammer. "I'm a cotton-headed ninny-muggins."

The elves gasped. They never expected Clive to use such harsh language.

"No, you're not, Clive. We all just have different talents," Ping Ping said gently.

"It seems like everyone's got the same talents except for me," Clive said, not completely believing Ping Ping.

"Don't be silly. You've got a lot of talents—special talents."

"You change all the lightbulbs when they burn out," JoJo chimed in.

"Yeah, and you're the only tenor in the elf choir. You bring us down a whole octave," Chou Chou called from the far end of the table.

Clive cracked a tiny smile. They weren't _totally _wrong.

"See, Clive?" Ping Ping said. "You're not a cotton-headed ninny-muggins. You're just... special."

However, Ping Ping decided to give Clive a break from toy-building and sent him where all the "special" elves worked: Quality Control

For Clive, this meant testing Jack-in-the-boxes and making sure they functioned properly.

The task was monotonous and every time the clown popped out, he jumped.

As he dutifully turned the crank on his sixth box, he overheard hushed chatter from the other side of the dividing shelf.

Normally he wouldn't have eavesdropped, but he swore he heard his name. Besides, if he had to hear _Pop Goes the Weasel _one more time, he would surely lose his mind.

Leaving his station, he peeked over the shelf and saw Ping Ping and his friend, Zu Zu, each with a mug of steaming hot cocoa in their hands.

"I really appreciate you helping me out with those robots," Ping Ping said, taking a sip of his drink. "Clive is killing me. I already got KiKi and DeDe working overtime."

"Don't mention it," Zu Zu said, plucking a marshmallow out of the frothy liquid. "By the way, that was quick thinking earlier with that 'special talents' thing."

Ping Ping sighed. "I feel bad for him, you know? I just hope he doesn't get wise."

"I doubt it. I mean, if he hasn't figured out he's a human by now, I don't think he ever will."

Clive felt his heart stop.

_What?!_

**A/N: I hope you all liked it! Please R&R!**

**P.S. Who doesn't love the phrase, "Cotton-headed ninny-muggins"?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Third chapter! Yay!**

**Thanks to lilyb12, MikuLover and Anastasia Dove for their reviews !  
**

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters**

_If he hasn't figured out he's a human by now, I don't think he ever will._

The words swirled wildly around in Clive's head as he backed away from the shelf, almost tripping over the chair.

His legs wobbled and he gripped the table to steady himself.

_What in the name of Kris Kringle are they talking about? _He thought desperately. _There's no way I'm not an elf!_

Unfortunately, the more he tried to assure himself that Ping Ping and Zu Zu had drank a bit too much of that grown-up syrup that Papa never let him have, the more all the pieces started to fall into place.

From his clothes always being tailor-made, having to sleep on two beds pushed together since he was seven, and of course, the proverbial candy cane in the hot chocolate, being an inadequate toy-maker, everything finally made sense.

A horrible pounding had now taken residence in the front of his skull and he felt sick.

Just then, his friend Tum Tum came up to him, his face full of concern.

"You don't look so good, Clive. Are you alright?"

Clive tried his best to focus on the little elf clad in orange, but the room kept spinning. Since when did Tum Tum have a twin?

"I'll be okay," Clive said, taking a shaky step forward. "I just need to sit down."

He didn't get the chance, however, because at that moment, his legs gave way, and he fainted, nearly crushing Tum Tum.

-o-

Once Clive came to, he bolted from the workshop, up the snowy hill and into the house where he and Papa lived.

Tears stinging his eyes, he bumped blindly into the kitchen table and knocked the silverware on the floor.

Too distraught, he left the mess and when he reached the bathroom, he locked the door and plopped down on the toilet seat.

More tears leaked out and he buried his face in the sleeve of his wool green coat.

A minute later, footsteps were heard outside in the hallway.

"Clive, are you okay?"

He wiped his eyes with a swatch of toilet paper and opened the door.

"I'm sorry, Papa," he sniffled, "I just need a little time to myself."

"Clive, I think we have to talk."

-o-

Papa was now sitting in his favorite armchair with Clive on his lap.

"There's something that I should tell you," Papa began. "You probably should have found out a long, long time ago."

The elderly elf then proceeded to tell Clive about how his father had fallen in love with a beautiful girl named Claire Foley when he was very young, and how Clive was born and put up for adoption by his mother who later passed away. Papa told him that his father had never even known that he was born. Most importantly though, Papa told Clive where his father lived-in a magical faraway city called London.

Papa reached into his pocket and handed Clive a picture. "That's your mother and father."

Clive looked at the black and white photo as a lump rose in his throat. His parents were sitting on a bench smiling brightly at the camera; his father had his arm around her while she leaned on his shoulder. They looked so happy together.

"I can't believe this," he said to no one in particular. Clive held the picture close to him and after a long silence, looked at Papa. "I think I want to go-find my dad."

Papa touched his arm lightly and nodded.

-o-

"So, I hear you're going on a little trip," Santa said.

Clive was back in the workshop with all the elves gathered around, having been filled in on Clive's plans to see his father.

"Yeah. I'm a little nervous, though," Clive admitted. "I mean, I've never even left the North Pole."

"Oh, don't worry about that," assured Santa. "I've been to London thousands of times."

"Really?" Clive asked, intrigued. "What's it like?"

"Well, there are a few things you should know," the old man said. "First, you see gum on the street, leave it there. It's not free candy. Also, there are about 30 Red Rose Pubs. They all claim to be the original, but the real one's on Castle Street. Finally, if you see a sign that says, 'Peep Show,' that doesn't mean that they're letting you look at presents before Christmas."

"I can't wait to see my dad. We-we're going to go ice skating and eat gingerbread," Clive said excitedly.

Santa sighed. "Um, that's another thing I wanted to talk to you about, Clive. You see, your father, he, uh, well, he's on the naughty list."

Clive's eyes widened in horror. "NOOO!" He raced to Santa's book and flipped through the pages frantically. He finally found the right section, and sure enough, there in thin black ink was the name.

_**Hershel******__ Layton_  


"But, how...how is this possible?" Clive asked in disbelief, turning back to Santa.

"Sometimes people just lose sight of what's truly important in life," Santa explained. "That doesn't mean that they can't find their way again. Maybe all they need is a little Christmas spirit."

The elves collectively cheered and Clive felt a tiny bit better. "Well, I am good at that," he said.

Santa patted his back. "I know you are."

Papa then walked over to Clive and placed a small snowglobe in his hand. Clive shook it, and watched little white specks settle around a two-dimensional model of Big Ben and a double-decker bus.

"I'll-I'll always be here for you," Papa said, the fine lines around his eyes crinkling as he gave Clive a sad smile. "Now go. Get."

Clive bent down and hugged his adoptive father tightly. "Thank you, Papa," he whispered.

The young man then left the workshop and stood at the edge of the icy banks. For a moment, he stared out at the navy blue water before finally taking a deep breath and jumping on a large sheet of ice that broke off and floated away.

**A/N: I hoped you all liked it! Please R&R!  
**

**P.S. My birthday is today! :)  
**


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